


Stronger Together

by Emblue_Sparks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 18:42:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12282252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emblue_Sparks/pseuds/Emblue_Sparks
Summary: Dean thinks all is lost, yet he must endeavor to understand his purpose and significance to the sum of all parts.





	Stronger Together

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Promptober in the Destiel NaNoWriMo fb group. The word is Sword. Inspired by my head canon that there is an even deeper purpose behind the Profound Bond.

January 24, 1979

This is the first day Dean Winchester arrived on earth, kicking, screaming, and swinging. But it won't be the last, not by a long shot. Born to John and Mary, it could be said he came from a spark of love, protected by steel and American muscle. He came into this world a fighter, and continues to defy universal law-returning time and again as a warrior in a conflict that's everchanging. He stood no chance at an average life, for he was not an average human. He was shaped, molded, and cut into a lethal predator who leaves the ruin of evil in his wake. This is the path of prophecy, the path of a sword. It's grip and pommel are now well worn from battles in distant realms, yet it's blade becomes all the more sharp each time he is broken and remade. He fights and dies repeatedly, not because the blade is ineffective, but because the warrior is incomplete. Though the sword may be legendary and prophetic, a man cannot win with a weapon alone.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

A Time Before Memory

An angel becomes self aware, he hopes to be strong and brave like his brethren. He listens, he learns, he follows, and yet he also questions. He is different, and Castiel will spend immeasurable time contemplating what sets him apart. He watches and learns, steps and falters, questions and is made to forget, a cycle he cannot understand but is forced to endure, while his brethren mock and mistreat him. An average angel is made of light, love, and stardust. What should they know of pain and heartache when they're built to follow, obey? Yet Castiel’s not an average angel, he remains kind and curious while developing strength and resistance to those who would oppose what’s most righteous, most just. As this resistance grows, it can deflect and protect those of Castiel’s choosing. His family indeed has shaped and guided him to live as he was designed, to become the Shield of God. They did not intend this shield, however, to turn from defending the Heavenly Host to protect humanity instead. Castiel is a warrior of God, a guardian of man. He fights and dies repeatedly, not because his shield is ineffective, but because the warrior is incomplete. Though it may be cosmic by design, an angel cannot win by a shield alone.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“And it is written, that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in Hell. As he breaks, so shall it break. ”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

He awoke in a stupor and his head was pounding, he slipped on the beer bottles surrounding his bed. Thirteen days. Thirteen days since Jack took off because Dean had tried to kill him in blinding rage of heartache and devastation. Thirteen since Rowena and Crowley left this realm forever, one by choice, one by the cruel hand of God’s most beloved. The favored son had also taken his mother as he fell into the rift, presumably never to return. 

Dean might’ve been able to recover one day from the loss. It would’ve taken years and untold damage to his body as his coping mechanisms left much to be desired. But the loss which pushed him beyond all hope, beyond all sense of what tethered him to earth, and kept him going year after year was that of his angel. He’d been so close to finally asking him to stay forever. Stay where he belonged, was most loved, by Sam of course. Dean had also been ready to ask his angel to stay because not only had he saved his soul from Hell, but his heart along with it. 

After years of denying his own happiness, he wanted to take the chance. Even if Cas only felt brotherly devotion for him, it was right to let him know how he felt. He would be blessed to have his companionship regardless. Yet, his soul sung when Cas stared longingly at him, he hoped the feeling was mutual. He’d even tried telling him in the most fourteen year old way possible, by making a mixtape. He should've known his angel needed something more direct to even begin understanding how much Dean loved him. 

There would never be an opportunity because he was gone. Dean had been robbed of the chance to tell him, and just hours after his angel died he’d been robbed of the chance to even give him a proper goodbye. The Heavenly Host had sunk to their lowest point yet and taken Cas’s body. The purpose was unclear, likely unholy. He refused to think about it. All he’d done was exist in his hovel of a room he once hoped to share with Cas. He couldn't even face Sam, whom he knew damn well was hurting too. But there was nothing left of the righteous man who had fought to keep his soul from being consumed in Hell, who had torn through Purgatory to find the other piece of his heart. Or was there?

He was hungover, had lost count of how many pairs of jeans wouldn't stay on his ass even with a belt, and was pretty sure if he didn't get proper fluid flowing through his system soon he was going to lose a kidney..possibly his liver too. Something about a dream he startled from….sounded like Chuck or...hmm..familiar regardless. Why’d that be running through his mind now for Christs sake? 

He bumbled and stumbled his way through the corridor, not having an inkling what time or even what day it was. Dean carefully made his way to the kitchen sink, he poured himself a glass of water. He could taste the foul minerals, a sure sign that the faucet not been turning enough to hydrate even Sam, and his own body was getting dangerously low on electrolytes. Halfway through drinking he felt his arm suddenly burn as if by a branding iron. He screamed, the water glass shattered all over the floor, but he didn't care because the pain was blinding. The ringing in his ears felt like his brain was rupturing, everything in the kitchen turned a strange shade of blue. Blue...through the enormous physical pain he was experiencing he felt his heart break anew at the realization the shade of blue was exactly that of his angels eyes. They were oceans of calm which he secretly loved to catch staring at him. He wanted to die.

Hell delivered pain on a scale no human mind could comprehend. Dean could remember it with a clarity he wished to destroy. Yet he’d been living with it for a decade now. Hello darkness my old friend..Yeah, old news, but he was a survivor and had grown accustomed to the debilitating drone in his everyday background. 

However, this emotional agony ripped through him so suddenly it took his breath away. All he could hope for was death or the appearance of his buddy Jack Daniels in large doses. Something shocked through him with such power he was surprised his heart didn't fry in his chest and start smoking. The cerulean hue had intensified, finally he heard the voice which had been rambling through his dream. He hadn't heard it properly because it sounded like a radio dial switching to find the best-OH MY GOD.

Glass in kitchen began shattering everywhere and his arm was on fire again, in fact he was so convinced of his skin burning he ripped off the tear stained cotton t-shirt he’d been wearing. What he saw on his shoulder had him screaming. The scar from Cas’s claim so long ago had seared through-but from the inside. He could feel his angels grip on him-this time it would not fade, not in a million years. He was on the floor writhing, inadvertently cutting himself from all the glass as he shook from the emotional and physical freight train that was rolling through his body and soul. 

“DEAN. LISTEN. PLEASE DEAN LISTEN NOW!”

His hand flew to his ears, but it wasn’t a frequency he was physically responding to. It wasn't hurting his ears, yet the intensity of it was so strong it was a natural, involuntary reaction. It began to lower and soften, like the volume switch in Baby. 

"Dean...you.. stop now...must listen. It's me, Cas. I can't.. very long. Kelvin took me...angels here..took me..going to give me to Michael...other world. He’ll use me to take you."

“WHAT? HE’S DEAD!!! I DON'T EXIST THERE!” Dean couldn't help yelling back, though he was convinced this was booze talking.

"Go to my room. Go there, sit. Please."

Dean howled as he tried to jump in between glass shards and drunkenly missed. He finally hobbled down the hall to the room he’d refused to open since they’d returned. He flung himself on the bed, thirty seconds later he threw up in the trash can and began sobbing hysterically. He didn't know how, but the bed smelled like him, his Cas. 

"It's alright Dean, I’m here. I'm not as lost as you think, but it’ll change if you don't listen to me now."

Dean sniffled, hiccupped, and nodded although he didn't know why... it's not like Cas was in front of him seeing his affirmative response.

"No I'm not in front of you Dean. You’ve been to distraught to see or think straight. You brought me here, I’m with you. I have been since Lucifer stabbed me. You begged me to share until a solution could be found. The trauma of everything has been so overwhelming your mind hasn't settled enough until now."

Dean just listened. Didn't move, didn't talk, didn't bat an eyelash or even breath.

"I need you to understand what's happening.You averted the apocalypse here but the rift has allowed one from the other world to begin colliding. Michael can still take you."

“I barely avoided it last time Cas. And now you're... you're…” he couldn't finish, there were too many tears. 

"Dean, we can fix this."

“It's too much, me and Sammy..we’ve just lost..so many” Dean cried while tremors rocked through him.

"You haven't lost me, not yet. Nor your mother. I-I can feel what you feel, Dean I miss you so much too."

So there it was...all out. Dean thought if a rejection from a live version of Cas would be painful he didn't have the energy to continue if he didn't return the sentiment.

"I do Dean. I always have. My heart has always been yours. If you want me and your mother back you'll have to dig deep, help me. I WILL come back to you. Please listen."

Dean listened, he asked questions. He felt like a corpse, but the realization his Cas was still here and loved him back sparked some life in him. He could feel the familiar fight returning. After a while he understood, so many times he’d tried to pinpoint the nature of what he felt for Cas. It was beyond anything he could rationalize. Not only had they fallen in love against Heaven’s orders, but had somehow managed to turn the tables on those fucking dickbags with wings on earth and everywhere else.

“SAM!!!! SAMMY!!!!! SAAAAM!!!”

A giant wraith with a laptop nearly crashed into the door frame. 

“What?! What? Oh my GAWD Dean your eyes!!! Who? WHO IS IT?? LET HIM GO NOW!!!”

“Sam..it's Cas, it's ok. It’s ok I promise!”

Sam looked as if he might pass out. 

“Sit. We need to talk. We’ve got people to get back and angels to destroy…….”

Dean and Sam were out on the road within the hour, exhausted but filled with purpose. Dean had never understood his value and worth as much as when they set out on that open highway to fight Apocalypse 3. Years from now new gospels would indeed be written. At the center of these stories would be Sam Winchester...the man who’d lead earth into a new peace, but not until the war had been won. 

Many brave warriors would fight, but none so fierce as Castiel-angelic Shield by design and Dean Winchester- angelic Sword by prophecy. Balance would be restored, Dean would get his angel, but not until they fought together as God’s most powerful weapon in the greatest war the world would know. Dean fulfilled his duty as a sword and his angel the shield. Only together did they exceed their potential and become the effective, lethal, and just warrior the universe required.


End file.
